Bought
by Ravyntree
Summary: A young girl, fallen victim to the slavers and sold off to a mysterious man in a clean suit.
1. Sold and Bought

The girl sat quietly, huddled against the wall in the far corner of one of the Slave's Pen. She didn't look at anyone, and hadn't spoken since her initial curses and screams upon arriving. After being collared and named 'Rose', she was thrown into one of the pens and immediately seized the corner as her's.

And there she sat, unmoving, unspeaking, just.. sitting. She would sometimes mumble something incoherent whenever a customer came to look at the stock, driving them away from her. Although Eulogy proclaimed that she was perfectly sane and capable, her appearances give off a different story. She didn't want to be bought, that was obvious.

So when a gentleman in a somewhat-clean suit with an expensive-looking silenced semi-auto came around with a great interest in her, she gave him the same treatment.

"What is the story on this one?" he asked Eulogy, crossing his arms over his chest and gazing down at her from outside the fence.

"She was brought in from around the Minefield," her 'owner' replied. "She is a scavenger, we believe. Certainly not a raider, or vault girl. Not with any mercs."

The stranger nodded, his dark eyes fixed on her face.

Rose mumbled something about ripping apart children, irritated that he would ask of her.

"What is her experience?"

"We aren't sure, with this one." Eulogy rubbed the back of his neck. "She is rather uncooperative."

The buyer nodded. "How long has she been here? She doesn't look very old, wouldn't you say?"

"About a month and a few weeks, and no my man, she is not old at all," Eulogy grinned. "I would place her around twenty-three, perfect screwing age."

"Screwing age?" A brow perked skeptically over his silver-rimmed reflective glasses.

"Yeah," he replied, tossing a nod Rose's way. "She's a beauty, and a man gets lonely, ya know?"

"Right." The man reached into a bag he carried over one shoulder and took out a sack of what Rose assumed were caps.

"Here. No need to count, there is more than enough. Have her by the front gate in ten minutes. I will pick her up there." He gave her one more look, then turned and walked away towards the slaver's barracks.

Eulogy waved a hand at a guard and made his way back to his cabin, Crimson and Clover following. The guard unlocked the gate and stepped in.

"Come on slave," he said, taking hold of her arm and pulling her roughly to her feet. He led her out of the pen and removed her collar, then tied her wrists behind her back.

She just kept her head down, never taking her eyes off the ground at her feet. Fight was useless here, but perhaps her buyer would be just stupid enough..

She followed the guard to the gate as he slid a knife under her jaw and pulled her along.

The stranger stood outside near the welcome sign, his arms crossed again. He stepped forward when they stepped off the footbridge.

"Here she is," the guard said. "All your's."

"Thank you." The man reached towards Rose and for a moment she panicked, not knowing his intentions. She tensed and bit her lip as he fastened a soft leather dog's collar around her throat. He then attached a chain to the metal ring and tugged it gently.

"Come, Rose," he commanded, walking forward. She had no choice but to follow, leaving Paradise Falls behind her. Paradise it wasn't.


	2. Home

****Author's Note** This may end up being a crossover at some point. So far I don't know who the stranger is. We will see where it goes.**

The stranger led Rose across the Capitol Wasteland most of the day, maneuvering with ease past raiders and super mutants, and attacking smaller creatures that hindered their way. Rose always looked away when he killed the animals. She felt for them, for after all it was humanity that had created this mess, and they had to suffer for it.

They stopped an hour or so after nightfall, the stranger leading her into the Super Duper Mart. She looked around in wonder at the empty building. The man must have cleared it of raiders, and she itched to ask how, but kept her tongue. She stopped just inside by some shopping carts as he locked and secured the doors with a strange kind of lock and a lead pipe, then followed his leash-tugs over to the counter.

"Here," he said, pulling a mattress out of the back room. "You can sleep here. Don't worry, it's safe." He unhooked her leash and then untied her wrists.

Rose sat down on the dirty mattress and rubbed at her bruised wrists, looking at the stranger in guarded curiosity.

He went to the fridge and, unlocking it, took out two bottles of Nuka-Cola and a box of Sugar Bombs.

"Here, eat. You don't look well." He handed her the box and a bottle, then leaned against the counter and opened his drink, pocketing the cap. Rose set the box down next to her and uncapped her bottle with calloused hands. She held out the cap to him.

"Keep it," he replied between sips of his drink. Rose looked down at the cap in her hand in wonder, then slid it carefully into the pocket of her dirty dress. She tried to sip her drink as he did, but found that she was extremely parched from all the dirty water she had been given at Paradise. She gulped down the drink and opened the box, the smell of sugar puffing out as she tugged open the bag within it.

The man turned and, setting his drink down on the counter, pulled a clipboard closer to him and checked off a couple things. He kept a very close count on his inventory.

Rose watched him as she munched the sweet cereal, trying to be quiet about it.

"So," he set his pen down and turned to her. "What is your name?"

"Rose," she said quietly, not meeting his gaze.

"No, what is your real name."

She glanced up at him, then looked away again uneasily and tried to remember. She hadn't heard it since she was a very young child, when her mother was still alive. They had called her orphan at Little Lamplight, as they did most of the parent-less children.

"I don't know," she replied after a few moment's thought. "I have not heard it since I was young."

The man nodded slowly and asked, "Do you like the name Rose?"

She nodded. He uncrossed his arms and stepped over to her, and she felt that same flutter of panic but did not move. He crouched in front of her and tried to look into her face.

"Do you really?"

She tried hard not to look at him, but glanced up out of human instinct.

"No," she whispered.

"I didn't think so." He rose and paced over to the counter again. "What would you like for me to call you?"

She had no idea. They hadn't even asked her name at Paradise, just assigned her as Rose and she was forced to live with it. She didn't reply to him, wary of his intentions.

"Well?" he glanced back at her.

"I.. I don't know."

"Hmm. How about.. Nola? It's a family name, from back before the war. 0r so I'm told."

"Nola," she whispered, trying on the name. It sounded pretty. She glanced back up at the man and nodded slightly.

"Alright, Nola it is." He smiled, and his face was so warmed by the expression that she was compelled to return it. She quickly frowned again after doing so and looked down at her box of cereal shyly.

"Well Nola," he said, shifting the weapon off his back and laying it on the counter. "I think we are going to get along nicely." The man set down his hat and sunglasses also, and turned to her. She looked up and was struck by his stunningly green eyes.

"I am Trekker," he said, extending a hand to be shaken. "Trek, for short."

She looked at him warily, then rose and took his hand, shaking it quickly and withdrawing just so.

"No need to fear me," he said, lifting himself onto the counter to sit. "I am the least of your problems in the Wastes. Hell, between the vampires, mutants, raiders, scavengers, and slavers, you should kiss the ground at my feet."

"Are you a wanderer?" she asked quietly.

He thought about this a long moment, then said slowly, as if carefully choosing his words, "Not exactly. I am in the way that I do wander, but not without purpose."

"What is your purpose?"

"I started out just trying to survive," he replied. "As we all are, I suppose. But.. there are people in need here, in the Wastes. People like yourself, and others." He shook his head and sighed. "I can't stand around helping myself when others suffer needlessly. Not when I can help them."

"What makes you so special?" she let the question slip, and instantly regretted it. Her eyes widened a bit and she snapped her lips shut over the last word, staring at him for the first trace of anger.

He looked up at her and grinned. "Let's just say I'm more capable than some."

She was intrigued by the man, though she would never admit it aloud. She reached up and ran her finger under the collar, finding the buckle slightly uncomfortable.

"Does that bother you?" Trekker asked, frowning.

"No, its fine," she replied, quickly dropping her hand.

"Be sure you don't remove it when you go out," he said. "You may not like the idea but it shows that you belong to someone, and slavers might think twice before taking you."

She nodded and sat back down on her mattress.

"Why did you buy me?" she asked quietly, unnerved by silence with the man.

He took up his drink and sipped it thoughtfully, then said, "I need an assistant to help me."

She tilted her head curiously and he explained; "I help slaves like you gain freedom, and in return I ask that you help me."

"What.. what do you mean 'freedom'? I belong to you now," she said, now choosing her own words carefully.

Trekker shook his head. "No, you are free. You may leave any time you wish."

"I.. You're serious?" she tilted her head in astonishment.

"Yes. I freed you from Paradise, why would I just trap you here for myself?"

She shook her head slowly and dropped her gaze from his thoughtfully.

"You can keep the collar though," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "It will help you."

She rose from the mattress and looked at the man straight now, no longer fearing him but more respectful.

"If it is alright with you Sir, I would rather like to stay."

He grinned and sipped his drink again.

"Well, that's a first."

Nola furrowed her brow. "Nobody else has ever stayed?"

"Some did, for awhile. But mostly out of fear that I was setting them up, or they would become enslaved again." He set his drink down and pushed his dark reddish, shoulder-length hair back from his face. "I like you."

She blushed slightly at his words and was to reply but started as something rapped against the door. Her eyes went wide and she looked to Trekker for answers.

"Ah, just in time," he smiled and threw her a wink, then hopped over the counter and trotted to the door.

Nola crouched down behind the counter, peeking over nervously.

Trekker unlocked the door and opened it, and a man—nay, a ghoul!—came in carrying a large box.

"Hey," he greeted Trek without breaking stride.

"Looks like you were successful," Trekker commented back as he re-affixed the locks on the door and followed the ghoul over to the counter. He set the box down and looked at Nola crouched behind the counter, eyeing him warily.

"Another one," he said to Trekker. "What happened to Clover? I've only been gone two days."

"She left," Trekker replied. "Ran back to Eulogy. I saw her there when freeing Nola here."

The ghoul nodded and opened the box, as if the girl were of no more interest to him. She rose slowly to look into the box, curious but still afraid of him.

Trekker caught sight of her looks and smiled.

"Nola, this is Charon ," he said. "He's my illegitimate father."

"Illegitimate my ass," Charon replied as he took a first aid container from the box and set it on the counter next to some others. "I practically am your father, kid."

Trekker laughed and nodded, also unloading various supplies. "Very true. He found me when I was three, and raised me ever since."

"Pain in the ass," Charon muttered. "I should have dropped you at Kiddie Lamplight where you belonged."

Nola stood on her toes to reach into the box, taking out some cans of food and carrying them to the fridge to help out.

"How old are you now, Trek?"

"Twenty-three." Charon nodded.

"What happened to his parents?" she asked the ghoul curiously.

"Dead. Wiped out by super mutants. I killed the mutants for supplies and found the kid all hidden up in a gun cabinet. Funny place to put a kid," Charon replied, setting a small pallet of Nuka-Cola on the counter for the girl to put away. "I felt sorry for him, and I was alone after killing that asshole at Underworld so I just kept him."

She nodded, returning to take the Cola to the fridge. She kept glancing at his face; she couldn't help it. She had never seen a ghoul up close except for feral ghouls that sometimes had wandered close to her when in the Wastes. As if reading her mind, Charon asked, "What, have you never seen a ghoul before? Stop staring like I'm a zombie."

Nola blushed deeply and looked down at her hands.

"0h, I'm sorry.. I just.. No. I haven't ever seen.."

"Well get used to it if you plan on sticking around."

She nodded and stepped back as Trekker came over the counter again.

"What about you?" Trek asked the girl to change the subject. "Where did you come from, before Paradise?"

"My parents were raiders," she replied and started organizing the medical supplies more neatly on the end of the counter. "They dropped me off a Little Lamplight when I was only a baby. Then I left the place when I was nine."

"Why did you leave?" Trek leaned against the counter, curious about her tale.

"The children.. Because word got out that I was a raider child they picked on me and tortured me. They were always trying to make me do bad stuff." She sighed and picked up a piece of pre-war money curiously.

"Ah. So then where did you go?"

Charon walked around the counter but didn't seem to be listening very intently. He, too, began to organize and code things according to type.

"I traveled with a merchant for several years," she replied, setting the money down again. "I helped him scavenge things to sell, and he would give me food and shelter in return."

"How did you end up at Paradise?" Charon asked suddenly. She looked at him and replied, "We met up with a group of raiders. At first they wanted to buy, but things didn't go well for them I suppose so they.. Well, they killed him and his guard." She sighed and looked down at her hands, remembering the terrible scene. "Then they took me to Paradise.."

"That's stupid," Charon commented. "Raiders are bastards."

Trek smiled grimly at the ghoul, amused by his thoughts on the matter. He looked back to Nola.

"Is is horrible, but at least you are safe now."

She nodded and picked up an ammo box, carrying it to a shelf with some others. She slid it into an empty place and paused when she heard a sound.

"What was that?" she asked quietly.

"Probably that damned Dogmeat," Charon grumbled, earning himself a sharp look from Trek.

"Dogmeat?" she asked curiously now that she knew it wasn't danger. Trek stepped over to the back-room door and opened it. He whistled.

A whining yawn came from the room, then a mangy-looking dog stepped out, stretched, and looked directly at her. She stiffened, remembering the wild dogs she and the merchant had sometimes run across.

"This is Dogmeat," Trek said, rubbing the dog's head. The animal looked up at him and wagged his tail.

"You have a dog named Dogmeat?" she asked, finding it to be an odd and somewhat creepy name.

"Yes. We found him up in the Scrapyard when we were raiding one day."

She held out her hand and Dogmeat stepped up to her, sniffing her hand, and then wagged his tail again. She noticed that his eyes were two different colors, and wondered if he had some Husky in him.

"He's very nice," she smiled, rubbing the dog's head. He barked, then turned and went to sit beside the counter, next to Charon. He looked up at the ghoul expectantly and, grumbling, he petted the dog rather despondently.

Trek smiled at them, then sighed and stretched his arms.

"Well, I'm going to sleep now, and you should too, Nola."

She nodded and stepped over to the mattress to lay down. Trek and Charon began turning down the lanterns set all about the area and Dogmeat jumped onto the counter and laid down.

"Does he sleep there?" Nola asked as she sat down.

"He's the watchdog," Charon replied, picking up the last lantern. He then stepped into the backroom, taking the light with him. Trek paused at the door and smiled at Nola in the dim light.

"Get some rest. Dogmeat will alert us if anything comes anywhere near this place."

She nodded and laid down, folding an arm under her head and closing her eyes as Trek stepped into the back and the light went out.

She was completely oblivious to what the next day would bring.


End file.
